


Godforsaken Jungle

by nessatheresa12121



Category: Incredibles (Pixar Movies)
Genre: Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 18:36:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16539965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nessatheresa12121/pseuds/nessatheresa12121
Summary: Helen is so angry with her husband that she can't think straight.And really, can anyone blame her?





	Godforsaken Jungle

There are so many things Helen Parr cannot believe.

That she’s racing through this lush forest, the humidity causing beads of sweat to coalesce on her skin, with palm leaves smacking her in the face. That Bob is beside her, that he seems incapable of absorbing the full force of her anger, that he’s _laughing_. That their children are in mortal danger, if she can believe a single word out of her liar husband’s—and his little blonde girlfriend’s—mouths.

“What did you think, huh, Bob? You thought I would never find out?” She can’t help from yelling at him, even as they run together, searching desperately for any sign of their children.

He lets out a breathy chuckle, and she realizes—unlike the last time she saw him run—Bob is not huffing for breath. He’s fit again. Which woman, exactly, did he get in shape for? “You always let me deal with the finances, I just never thought—”

“Oh, what, you never thought I’d notice you weren’t getting a paycheck?” She’s furious with herself because she _didn’t_ notice—she was too busy getting fucked by her newly-enthusiastic husband, or else pining over his sudden withdrawal away from her, to worry about money. Blinded by her love for him, by her confusion over how he was acting. It’s a mistake she’ll never make again.

“I should have told you I was fired—I admit it! But I didn’t want you to worry!” For the first time today, he’s on the defensive. But if Bob Parr knew his wife at all, he should have been defending himself _long_ before this. Because she is not going to simply let this go. He has put her _and_ her children in the greatest jeopardy, and when they’re done being superheroes—if they ever manage to escape this living nightmare—she’s going to kick his ass. And possibly his belongings, too, out of the house. His stupid super memorabilia. His war propaganda posters, his newspaper clippings, she’ll tear them off the wall. His suits—not that they were getting any use, anyway, what with him being unemployed—will gather dirt on the road. She allows herself a brief fantasy of ripping Mr. Incredible out of her life.

It’s the first time she’s done so. It’s kind of delicious.

But even though Mr. Incredible is infuriating and moronic and oblivious… she still loves Bob Parr, the father of her children, the big lug. She’s not going to let _him_ go. Not yet.

“You didn’t want me to _worry?”_ she repeats loudly, snapping at him, shocked by the gall of this statement. He didn’t want her to worry about _what_ —his sudden ferocious sexual appetite which was withdrawn just as quickly, the blonde hair on his suit, the weird conferences, or the strange phone calls from a husky-voiced woman, who Helen now assumes is some sort of secret agent? “And now we’re running for our lives through some godforsaken jungle!”

She has more to add— _because of your idiocy, because you didn’t want me to worry, we’re here, our kids are here, our_ kids _, Bob, they might die because of you, because of_ you _, no one else but you, not my fault, not my guilt to bear, yours, yours,_ yours—but Bob interrupts her.

“You keep trying to pick a fight, but I’m still just happy you’re alive.” He laughs slightly on these last words, and she knows Bob is truly giddy with relief. He did think she was dead.

If she’d known that, she might have delayed her entry into that weird little chamber where she found him hugging that woman. Just to make the fucker suffer more.

But he didn’t _seem_ to be suffering knowing she was dead. In fact, just the opposite. She couldn’t see his face when she entered the room—just his massive body, curled around the tiny frame of that woman. This whole situation is so fucking bizarre, and Helen doesn’t know what in the hell to think about it. She just knows she’s angry.

She has pieced together bits and parts of the situation, like the world’s worst jigsaw puzzle, and she thinks she knows the basics. Hero work. That’s what it all boils down to. Her husband quit his job to come here and do hero work on this treacherous island, or perhaps he’d been lured, the idiot. Maybe he’d been lured like a fish goes to a shiny, rainbow-shimmering piece of bait. And that woman, the silver fox, was the bait.

The woman is beautiful. Helen had thought so, even as her fist stretched across the room and cracked into the woman’s face like gunfire. Silver hair, big eyes, figure far more slender and svelte than Helen’s. Clearly _she_ hadn’t borne three children, for Bob or anyone else.

Maybe they _had_ been having an affair. Helen knows, and knows well, that what is going on here is far more than the story of a simple affair—the missiles and the armed guards and the rocket she’d seen prove it; she suspects this island is some sort of villain’s secret base. But that doesn't necessarily mean an affair hadn’t happened.

Helen exudes confidence, in every situation, always has, always will. But it veils a deep inadequacy, a haunting inner doubt she’s constantly working to hide. That feeling has returned with a vengeance, with the knowledge that, on multiple levels, she wasn’t good enough for Bob.

Well, goddammit, there have been times where he wasn’t good enough for her, either, but you don’t see _her_ running off to some insane jungle island and taking a mistress!

Helen hears loud sounds in the distance—rumbling like thunder, explosions, gunfire. Her stomach thrills in fear and in fury, as she imagines her precious children being targeted by an armed guard’s gun, being hit, being killed. Can Dash run fast enough to escape machine gun fire? Even if invisible, could Violet avoid being struck by a hail of bullets? Her force fields have never been put to the test, not like this—can those fields protect Violet and her brother, or under this kind of stress, would they fail? Oh, God, will they _fail?_

She is running out of breath from this sprint, but she manages to hiss: “If our kids die because of you, Bob Parr—actually, if one _single_ hair on either of their heads gets hurt, I swear in the name of God, I will kill you myself.”

Her husband grows far more serious. There is now a somber tone in his voice, no giggles or sighs of relief. “If they get hurt—trust me, you won’t have to.”

She believes him.

She doesn't know if that makes it better or worse.

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a oneshot about what I imagine was going through Helen's head while she and Bob were running through the jungle. I find their marriage very interesting to explore, though it's definitely not the healthiest marriage around. Poor Helen. I definitely feel she's the victim in all this crap. Not to show my biases or anything! I hope you enjoyed reading.


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